


Breathless

by mistleto3



Series: Breathing [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Universe Alteration, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tatara and Mikoto's lives begin to get back to normal after Tatara survives being shot by the Colourless King.<br/>Epilogue of <em>Breathing</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the epilogue of my other fic titled [Breathing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6099118?view_full_work=true), and won't completely make sense if you haven't already read that fic.
> 
> This fic can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/147209963179/breathless)
> 
>  
> 
> _Significantly redrafted 02/08/2017_

Everything that had happened since the shooting seemed almost surreal, but nothing had been more so than Mikoto's abdication. It had taken him a while to adjust to losing his powers- indeed, it had taken everyone in Homra a while, and the group’s numbers had begun to thin since the battle on Ashinaka island. Life as a clan without a King was clearly taking its toll- they no longer had their trump card in battles; they could no longer fall back on the wrath of the Red King if they were in a bind. Fights were lost a little more often, and the frustration had begun to show in a few of the members, some of whom had started to drift away, and showed their face around the bar less and less often. Watching the motivation drain out of his brothers, Tatara couldn’t help but be reminded of the state the Blue clan had been in when Mikoto was first chosen- they'd been without their King for almost a decade, and they were left aimless and broken, nothing more than the guard dogs of another clan.

Still, Homra's most loyal remained so, and people like Izumo, Misaki, Rikio, Kosuke, Yo, and the others of that ilk didn’t seem to have any plans to disappear, and their powers hadn’t weakened without a King. They didn't seem to think of themselves as 'without a King' either- they still saw Mikoto as they’d always seen him, even without a Sword of Damocles to prove it. The clan was less active now, though- without a King they didn’t have the fire power to do as many of the raids and those sorts of things as they used to, and as a result even the most loyal clansmen had been spending more time away from the bar, having to find something else to do to occupy their time. But despite that, they still treated Mikoto with the same respect they always had, and they never failed to show up if they were called upon. It seemed that what Tatara had said when Mikoto first stepped out of the chamber of the Slates when he abdicated was ringing true with more than just himself: Mikoto’s air of being someone important hadn’t gone away.

Not that that really seemed to matter to Mikoto- it wasn’t so much the opinion of others that was difficult to wrap his head around, it was getting used to suddenly being so much weaker. Bruises and scratches were a foreign concept to him; while he was King he’d barely even seen his own blood, except from when he and Reisi had their tiffs. Now, a stray shard of broken glass could slice through the skin of his palm as easily as anyone else’s. So it was hard not to feel strange, vulnerable. He’d never really believed Tatara’s speeches about how his powers were meant to protect until he no longer had them, and now there was really nothing he could do to protect his family. Most of the clansmen could take care of themselves, but Anna and Tatara would struggle to do the same, now their main guardian was no longer capable of protecting them. The worry that something might happen to them was clearly weighing on Mikoto’s mind.

Nevertheless, he was coping. Tatara’s relentless optimism and encouragement made sure of that- Tatara was used to being weak, and he was more than willing to teach Mikoto how to come to terms with it.

But unusually for him, Tatara had been quiet since he’d arrived home. That morning, he’d been for the final follow-up appointment for the bullet wound between his ribs, where his doctor had confirmed that his recovery was going as well as could be expected and there would be no severe long-term side effects. After two months almost to the day since the shooting, the dressings could finally be removed for good. In truth, Tatara probably could have stopped replacing them every day a couple of weeks ago, but he’d been putting off his final appointment. His life had changed so much since he was wounded that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear a doctor tell him he was “back to normal,” when really, he was anything but. But he couldn’t put off admitting he was healed (at least physically) forever. Though the scar still protested sometimes if he moved too quickly or twisted it in an awkward way, the pain had subsided almost completely by now. Just in time for his birthday.

But Tatara’s sudden quietness after his trip to the doctor’s office was disconcerting. Mikoto wasn’t usually the most observant of people, whether that was through laziness, apathy, or just failing to notice was anyone’s guess, but he did detect the sort of dim fog that pervaded their room above the bar which seemed to have been cast by Tatara's depressive mood. He was normally so excitable around this time of year, just before his birthday and Valentine’s day, but instead of usually his usual jittery anticipation, he lay on the bed reading in silence.

“You alright?” Mikoto had been lying on the mattress beside him dozing and, noticing how subdued Tatara seemed to be, rolled over to face him.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m okay,” he replied with a half-convincing smile.

"Did something happen with the doctor? You sick?"

"No, no, of course not. Everything's healing as it should be."

Mikoto raised a doubtful eyebrow at him, and Tatara caved almost immediately.

“I just... it sounds stupid…”

“Go on?”

“I realised today it’s been a long time since we’ve really done any proper couple-y stuff, you know? I haven't really been keeping track of the date- I didn't even realise it's the 13th of February until the nurse mentioned my birthday’s tomorrow after seeing it on my medical records. I don't have _anything_ planned for Valentine's day..." He sighed. "I know it’s been difficult to find time to do stuff just the two of us with everything that’s happening and my recovery and your abdication, but we didn’t even get to do anything _Christmas Eve_ because I was stuck in hospital. I begged them to let me out just for one evening, but the doc said I was still too weak...”

“It’s alright,” Mikoto shrugged. He’d never been the type to put much stock by holidays, especially romantic ones, and only really bothered celebrating Valentine’s day because it coincided with Tatara’s birthday and Tatara, unlike him, was very much into the romantic stuff.

“It isn’t though... after everything that happened I should be making sure you know I love you.”

“We don’t need to go out looking at fairy lights for me to know that.”

“I’d still like to do something special tomorrow.”

Mikoto sighed. “Alright; it’s your birthday.”

“And Valentine’s day,” Tatara pressed, then paused for a moment before continuing: “It feels like everything is different. Time feels like it’s passing too quickly, and Homra feels different, and I feel different… I just want a day where everything feels normal again.”

Mikoto nodded slowly. “That’s okay.”

In truth, it hadn’t been difficult to tell something was wrong with Tatara. He was normally so optimistic and so forward-facing, always looking forward to the next exciting thing he could do with his family and his clan, but at the moment, he seemed like he could only handle each day as it came, and couldn’t bring himself to plan more than a couple of days ahead. He’d even forgotten his own birthday- one of his favourite days of the year.

It seemed like the weight of everything that happened in December was catching up with him. At the time while everything was still going on, he’d had to force himself to stay strong and optimistic for Mikoto’s sake, but the stress he’d buried had to come to the surface at some point. Now he’d had some time for the adrenaline to die down, the pain he had subdued was finally starting to affect him. He never went anywhere alone anymore; he jumped at loud noises; he didn’t spend as much time with his friends. He was also sleeping more- taking more naps in the afternoons and waking up later in the mornings, but Mikoto suspected that was because he wasn’t sleeping very well at night. He was often woken by Tatara tossing and turning, frowning in his sleep with tears streaming down his face, and more than once he’d watched Tatara awaken suddenly, jolting upright in bed and gasping for air. The fear he’d obviously felt after the shooting had left its aftershocks etched into Tatara’s consciousness, and Mikoto worried it would be a long time before Tatara truly recovered, even though his physical wounds had healed.

 Tatara, meanwhile, had paused for a moment, chewing his lip.

“What?”

“...We haven’t had sex since before I got shot."

“You were ordered to take it easy,” Mikoto pointed out.

“Yeah, and I’m fine now. It barely even hurts anymore.”

“You sure? ‘S no pressu...”

“King, it’s been two months," Tatara interrupted bluntly. "And if I’m being honest it’s getting really difficult to keep my hands to myself sleeping next to you every night."

Mikoto chuckled at his enthusiasm, and then there was another pause.

“…I feel like it’d help me to feel normal again. We never used to go more than a few days without being all over each other, and I want to go back to that. I want to stop acting like a shooting victim… I just need for everything that happened to be behind me and stop ruling my life, and this is something we can do to make things seem more…”

“Normal?” Mikoto offered, laying his hand gently on Tatara’s shoulder in reassurance. “If you’re sure,” he conceded.

* * *

Mikoto had woken Tatara the next morning with breakfast in bed (which had obviously been prepared by someone else, as Mikoto didn't have the slightest knowledge of cooking, and no longer had powers with which to fry eggs with his bare hands, but Tatara still appreciated the thought) and handed him a gift (again, evidently wrapped by someone else, as it was far too neat to have been done by Mikoto). Once he’d eaten, Tatara set down his coffee to tear away the shiny red paper and revealed an ornate photo album, bound in scarlet leather. The Homra insignia was emblazoned across the cover. The gift, at least, had definitely been picked out by Mikoto himself.

"You were running out of space in your old one..." Mikoto said, by way of explanation, as though he had to qualify any sentimental action. Tatara threw his arms around Mikoto's shoulders in response, singing his praises of the book and showering him with kisses.

When Tatara repaid the gift with a box of home-made Valentine's chocolates, Mikoto didn't bother to ask Tatara why he was giving candy on Valentine's day when tradition clearly dictated that it was women who were supposed to do so- he'd asked last year, and the year before, and he'd only been answered with a dismissive smile. Anna had helped him make them the night before, and she spent the rest of the day giving out the spares to the other Homra members.

Izumo had had to pull some strings for them to get them a dinner reservation on Valentine's day at such late notice, but he had his ways. The restaurant they ended up in was small and not overly-romantic (at least compared to some on the same street, which had decorated the tables in heart-shaped sequins), much to Mikoto’s relief. Tatara was back to his usual bubbly self, and seemed perked up by the opportunity to dress up nice and get out of the bar for anything other than the odd errand.

The dinner was like any other. Tatara chattered away about anything and everything as he picked at his food while Mikoto listened quietly. He couldn't allow himself to stop talking; it was easier to ignore the anxiety bubbling in his stomach while he was prattling on about something else. Tatara didn't know why he was so nervous; it wasn't like they hadn't already had sex hundreds of times before, but it had been so long, and things were so different now- Tatara bore the scar on his ribs to prove it. As a result, he felt himself reverting to the state he'd been in before the very first time they'd gotten intimate with one another, back when he was a jittery teenager and his head had been the arena for a battle between crippling nerves and raging hormones. Every time he felt his hands beginning to tremble, he reached for his glass and took a sip to steady them, which meant he ended up drinking a little more than he'd intended to. Tatara was the unfortunate combination of a complete lightweight and an affectionate drunk, so by the time he'd drained his second glass of wine, the sudden comments about how pretty Mikoto's eyes were had increased in frequency tenfold. Mikoto listened to his mushy babbling with an amused smile.

Mikoto insisted on paying for the meal, despite Tatara's pouting, then the pair took a leisurely walk back to the bar. The chill of late winter was still crisp in the air, and Tatara pulled Mikoto's arm around him and tucked himself against his side for warmth, watching their breath condense into ribbons of white mist.

When they arrived back at Homra, the bar was mostly empty (it wasn't exactly a romantic setting), except from a few of the Homra boys who hadn't gotten themselves dates and were drinking to commiserate their loneliness. Many of them shot Mikoto and Tatara grumpy looks as they crossed the bar to head upstairs, irritated by the presence of a happy couple interrupting their bitter wallowing.

As soon as Mikoto closed the door to their bedroom behind them and the lock clicked shut, the pleasant haze that the alcohol had left in Tatara's mind evaporated all at once and the nervousness it had masked returned in full force. Mikoto strolled lazily over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, then glanced over at Tatara, who was still standing near the door. In contrast to his lover, Mikoto didn't seem anxious in the slightest. He held out his hand, and Tatara made his way over to take it, letting Mikoto pull him down gently to straddle his lap. Mikoto's arms snaked around Tatara's slim waist, and he kissed him tenderly.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding each other close and kissing, savouring this kind of intimacy. It had been so long since they’d so much as made out- of course they had cuddled and kissed since the incident, but only chastely, and it seemed like their every kiss was tinged with the fear they’d felt of losing each other, and the gratitude that they were both still alive and could even kiss at all.

But this was different- this was like the kisses they used to share before all of this happened. They sank into one another, the tension building steadily. It was only now that Tatara really realised how long it had been since he and Mikoto had last made love, and the long-neglected cravings he had for his partner were beginning to make themselves known as the kiss drew on. Two months was a long time to go without getting off, and the heat building between Tatara’s legs was becoming demanding, and before long, it had begun to creep into the way they held each other.

Soon, their lips were crushing together and parting against one another, hungrily, urgently. The kiss took Tatara's breath away, and he pressed his body closer to Mikoto's, feeling his chest rise and fall against his own with his ragged breathing. His legs had begun to tremble, and he wrapped his arms around Mikoto’s shoulders and fisted his fingers in the fabric of his shirt to steady himself. Mikoto's hands wandered up and down his sides, then over the curve of his hips and onto his ass to grope him gently. Tatara gasped into the kiss in surprise, his back arching. He felt Mikoto's lips curl into a smirk against his own.

Tatara didn't know how long it had been before the kiss broke, but when it finally did, they were both panting, and his arousal was straining uncomfortably against his trousers. It seemed the frustration was getting to Mikoto just as much as it was for Tatara, and he tugged his shirt over his own head as soon as they broke apart. The first embers of lust were already smouldering in his eyes.

Tatara couldn’t help but take a moment to stare, his gaze wandering down across the newly-exposed smooth tan skin and sculpted muscle. He’d seen Mikoto shirtless every day since the last time they’d been together like this, but he hadn’t really taken the time to admire his body. He was every bit as breath-taking as Tatara remembered.

Then, Tatara reached shakily for the buttons of his own shirt, his apprehension suddenly making a resurgence as he did so. It was a long time since he’d been nervous undressing in front of his lover; it had become so natural to him by now, but this time he was hyperaware of the wound on his chest, the slim, pink scar that was barely an inch long but that symbolised months of agony. Mikoto hadn’t seen it yet- it had always been hidden beneath its dressings- and Tatara wanted to keep it that way. The thought of his eyes fixing on that scar sent ripples of anxiety through his gut, and his fingers trembled so much that he could barely get the first button unfastened.

Mikoto steadied them with his own, giving him a gentle, reassuring kiss as he helped Tatara to loosen the fastenings one by one until the shirt fell open around him. Tatara took a deep breath to steady himself, and Mikoto caught his eyes briefly before moving his lips downward, trailing slow kisses across his jaw and down his throat to his collarbone. He moved steadily, almost seeming to worship his flesh as he lifted Tatara by his hips to stand up between his legs so he could kiss further downwards.

Tatara tensed as Mikoto’s lips trailed down his breastbone before he finally pressed a feather-light kiss to the scar on his chest, glancing up at Tatara as he did so. The anxiety that had formed a knot in Tatara’s stomach uncoiled, and he leant down to brush his lips Mikoto’s forehead gratefully.

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t find you attractive anymore?” Mikoto asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sort of… I thought it’d be an unpleasant reminder of everything…”

Mikoto sighed and stole a quick kiss. “You’re gorgeous, and I don’t care about the scar,” he said simply, and Tatara smiled, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Tatara murmured.

“I love you too.”

The pair kissed once more, softly. The heat and urgency that had driven them earlier had died down somewhat, and they were content to revel in the intimacy for a while. However, the pressure in Tatara’s underwear was still eager to make itself known, and as time passed, he found the neediness beginning to creep into his kisses. Not that Mikoto seemed to mind- he was quick to meet Tatara’s enthusiasm with his own, and soon they were back to how they’d been before, pressing each other’s bodies close as Tatara gasped against his lover’s lips.

The little sounds of enjoyment issuing from Tatara’s throat egged Mikoto on, and his hand slipped down from where it rested on Tatara’s hip to cup the bulge in his trousers. Tatara whimpered and bucked his hips towards Mikoto’s palm, his inhibitions beginning to ebb at the arousal that trickled down his spine to pool in the pit of his stomach. As though asking permission, Mikoto’s fingers hovered over the button of his trousers, and Tatara gave a quick nod of encouragement. Mikoto kept his eyes locked with Tatara’s as he unfastened his fly, then slipped his hand down the front of his trousers and began to rub him through his underwear.

“Nn… King…” Tatara’s voice was soft and high-pitched as he gripped his lover’s shoulders, directing the whine straight into his ear, and the sound sent goosebumps prickling across Mikoto’s arms. He ran his thumb over a damp spot in the fabric where precum had begun to leak from Tatara’s cock as his other hand moved to his waist, hooking under the waistband of his trousers to begin to ease them down. Tatara kicked them off hurriedly, then Mikoto pulled him forward once more to stand between his thighs so he could resume littering kisses across his chest. Meanwhile, Mikoto’s hand continued its ministrations, and another quiet moan sounded in the back of Tatara’s throat as he rocked his hips towards his palm. Mikoto watched his face intently as he screwed his eyes closed and pressed his lips together.

“That’s it…” he murmured, feeling Tatara’s arms relax where they were draped around his shoulders as he began to get into it, losing himself to the friction.

“More…” Tatara whispered, tugging at the elastic of his own underwear.

Mikoto pulled his boxers down, and Tatara stepped out of them, his breath coming in quick pants. As soon as his cock was free, Mikoto’s fingers wrapped around it to pump it slowly, and a whine escaped past Tatara’s lips as he reached for Mikoto’s own fly, fumbling with the buttons until he got them open. Mikoto paused for a moment to yank his jeans and boxers off, then he pulled Tatara back down into his lap. He pressed their cocks together and grasped them both in his hand, smirking as Tatara thrusted into his palm and his lips found their way to Mikoto’s ear so he could hear every gasp and whimper that issued from his throat. Mikoto’s free arm wrapped around Tatara, pulling him in close and holding him tightly, so their chests were pressed flush together.

“Do you want to…?” Mikoto began, but Tatara had cut him off before he even had a chance to finish the sentence.

“Y-yes…” He half-whimpered the word, then climbed shakily out of his lover’s lap to walk over to the bedside drawer, and Mikoto’s gaze followed him raptly, roaming over his ass and thighs and the crimson tattoo emblazoned on his shoulder with a voracious look in his eyes. Tatara smirked as he turned around and noticed Mikoto staring. It felt like an age since he’d seen Mikoto look at him like this; ever since the shooting, Tatara had felt like Mikoto only looked at him as a fragile little thing. Mikoto hadn’t allowed himself to show lust since the attack, as though he was afraid he would break his lover.

Tatara had missed being desired this way; it had been sort of frustrating that, every time he’d caught Mikoto’s eye, he’d seen a glimmer of fear staring back at him. He knew Mikoto was only scared because he loved him and he’d nearly lost him, but it was difficult for Tatara to get over the echoes of his own trauma and feel normal again when his lover always looked as though he was deathly afraid that Tatara would shatter in his hands. It was such a relief to see that fear forgotten about for the first time in months, even if only briefly. A relief to feel like Mikoto’s lover again, rather than his patient.

With a flirty smile, Tatara retrieved the lubricant from the bedside drawer and hurriedly reassumed his position in Mikoto’s lap, pressing the bottle into his hand. Mikoto wasted no time in slicking his fingers with it, then resumed pumping Tatara’s cock slowly as he reached around him with his other hand. Mikoto groped his ass, briefly savouring the feeling of his skin beneath his palm, before allowing his index finger to slip downwards and begin massaging his entrance gently, stroking small circles on his skin until the tip of the digit finally slipped inside.

“Yes…” Tatara breathed the word, rolling his hips back towards the sensation.

Mikoto let out a low groan at the feeling of the tight heat, and the way Tatara’s back arched in pleasure and precum dripped from his cock onto his fingers. He thrust the digit slowly, watching Tatara’s reaction with a captivated expression on his face. Even after all this time, he still immediately recognised the tell-tale signals his lover wanted more- the way his moans became higher in pitch and the way the movement of his hips sped up. Obligingly, he slid another finger into him.

“King… h-haa… I missed this.”

“Mm…” Mikoto groaned the agreement against Tatara’s shoulder, then lifted his head to kiss him deeply. His own erection had begun to ache at the sight of his partner in this state, a he’d been deprived of for so long, and almost on cue, Tatara’s trembling hand found its way down between Mikoto’s legs to start stroking him in time with his own movements. They gasped for breath between kisses, their pulses racing as their motions sped up, until Tatara finally whined against Mikoto’s lips:

“I want you inside me.”

Slowly, Mikoto withdrew his fingers, allowing Tatara to shift his hips and position the head of his cock against his entrance. Mikoto’s hand found its way to his waist to hold him steady, while the other wrapped around him, holding him close.

His nervousness completely forgotten, Tatara met his lovers eyes as he sank slowly down onto him, and he let out a shaky sigh of relief at the familiar sensation of being filled, of being as close to Mikoto as he could possibly be. He paused once Mikoto was hilt deep inside him, allowing himself to adjust, to catch his breath, before he wound his arms around Mikoto’s shoulders, captured his lips in a soft kiss, and began to roll his hips.

Moans issued from their throats in synchronisation, Mikoto’s low and gruff and Tatara’s high and breathy. Their movements were slow and gentle, almost leisurely; there was no roughness, no carnal desperation, just a simple need to be as close as they could possibly be, a desire to share the intimacy, the pleasure, to lose themselves in the moment and forget about everything else except the man each of them loved. Their kisses were sweet and loving, their caresses were tender. Mikoto’s hands wandered reverently over every inch of Tatara’s back, tracing patterns over his sides and down onto his thighs and almost worshipping whatever bare skin was within his reach as Tatara rode him slowly. Their lips barely left one another’s, except to whisper sweet nothings; whenever Tatara wasn’t kissing his lover, murmured “I love you”s flooded past his lips, his voice strained with pleasure, and he clung to Mikoto’s shoulders as the waves of ecstasy rolled through him.

Before long, Tatara’s legs were trembling too much to hold himself up, and Mikoto lifted him out of his lap and laid him on the bed, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him. His hair was dishevelled, his cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, thighs parted, chest heaving, cock stiff and twitching. Mikoto kissed him deeply as he finally tore his eyes away to crawl on top of him, lifting Tatara’s hips up to meet his own and pressing himself inside him once more.

As Tatara threw his arms around his shoulders, whimpering against his lips, Mikoto’s hand slipped between their bodies to wrap around Tatara’s cock, and he began pumping it in time with his thrusts. Tatara arched his back to press closer to him, his hips bucking jerkily, as though he wasn’t sure whether to rock them forwards into Mikoto’s hand or backwards to push him deeper inside him. His whines became higher and higher pitched as his nails dug into Mikoto’s back, and his movements became erratic. He gasped for breath between kisses.

“King…” He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before his orgasm overwhelmed him, turning the words in his throat to a formless cry of ecstasy as his cum splattered onto Mikoto’s abs.

Mikoto buried his face in Tatara’s shoulder, a low moan resonating in his throat as he rolled his hips slowly, letting him ride out his orgasm before he pulled out and succumbed to the sensation in turn, driven over the edge by the exaltation in his lover’s voice. Mikoto finished across his stomach with a low, gruff moan. Then he fell, spent, onto the mattress beside him and wound his arm around his shoulder. They pulled each other in close, taking a moment to catch their breath.

When the blurriness in Mikoto’s vision had cleared, he reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and handed it to Tatara, taking a cigarette from the packet beside it as he did so and placing it between his lips. Tatara ignited it with a click of his fingers, then took a tissue to wipe up the sticky mess that coated his abdomen before cuddling up to Mikoto’s side.

“I missed that…” he remarked, still breathless.

“Mm,” Mikoto agreed.

The air was humid and thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat and cigarette smoke, but Tatara sort of loved it- it was the smell of his happy place. It was moments like these when he felt the most content- lying in their bed tucked under Mikoto’s arm, bare skin pressed to bare skin as they basked in the afterglow of their shared pleasure. Moments when it felt like nothing mattered but the man he loved more than everything else in the world combined. When he felt safe, as if the locked door could keep out all of their troubles.

If heaven was where a person was happiest, this was Tatara’s heaven, between the dishevelled sheets of their bed above Homra bar.

It was only then that Tatara realised that, for the first time in months, he’d finally really forgotten about the shooting for a while. Even when his mind had been elsewhere, the lingering fear had been ever-present, a gloom lurking at the back of his consciousness. And he’d sort of made peace with the possibility that he might never quite be the same person again. But right in that moment, he actually felt like himself again, and he actually allowed himself to hope that maybe all this was only temporary. Maybe it was possible to pick himself up after all this, possible that his scars would continue to heal and fade until the memory of the attack no longer weighed on him every hour of every day. He’d been telling himself that he and Mikoto would be okay ever since he’d woken up in hospital, but it wasn’t until now that he really believed it.

“What?” Mikoto asked, clearly having noticed the thoughtful look on Tatara’s face.

“I feel… better. Not saying a good dicking solved all my problems or anything, not that you weren’t incredible as always, but I feel like this is symbolic or something. I’m finally healing, we’re finally getting back to normal, the hard part is over and we’re on the other side now. You know?”

A faint smile flickered across Mikoto’s face. “Yeah, I know.”

“I love you, King,” Tatara sighed, watching the wisps of smoke curl upwards past Mikoto’s lips.

Mikoto exhaled slowly, then turned to press a kiss to Tatara’s forehead. “Love you too.”

The smile playing across Tatara’s lips widened, and he lifted his head to brush his lips against Mikoto’s. Then he fell back against the pillows, still shaky and breathless, but for the first time in months, content.


End file.
